


time doesn't love you (like i love you)

by jxxhyxns



Category: NU'EST, Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Doctor Who Fusion, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Human!Minhyun, Impossible Girl!AU (kinda), Interplanetary Travel, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Time Travel, Timelord!Ong, onghwang's timelines aren't straight and neither are they, some Angst if i've done my job right, you don't need to have seen the show in order to read this xx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-10 20:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15299163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxxhyxns/pseuds/jxxhyxns
Summary: Minhyun is frozen in time, between one heartbeat and the next, but he still has the ability to make Seongwu's hearts beat a little faster.[SR3 Prompt #27]





	time doesn't love you (like i love you)

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Prompter,  
> You asked for a Suffering Whovian Cultist™ and here I am TT Thank you for such a wonderful prompt! I've been out here still missing my wife Clara Oswald so I couldn't go past this prompt even if it was a little challenging for me. I hope that I was able to write at least a little of what you were looking for ♡♡
> 
> Thank you also to the Sirius Rises mods for organising this round and for their patience and persistence ♡♡
> 
> *based on Prompt #27 from Sirius Rises Round 3  
> *title from the song Time by Mikky Ekko  
> *quick note on dw canon: Timelords have two hearts (twice the heart, twice the heartbreak amirite :')))  
> *disclaimer: this is unbeta'd and I have not actually seen The Androids of Tara

_TARA_  
_MUTTER’S SPIRAL_  
_58054 6847:32 from Galactic Zero Centre_

By the time Seongwu set foot in the forest, time itself had already stopped. From all sides, snow-laden fir trees stretched into the distance, branches stooped with a burden he could identify with. Behind him, a doorway of sorts; a gap of brilliant white light splitting the wintery landscape in two like the gash in reality it was.

Before him, mere feet away, masked only by the sheen of snow halted midair, was a man. Swathes of cloth and animal skin bundled his torso seeking to stave off the cold while aviator goggles hung listlessly around his neck. His bleached blonde hair had been swept in every direction by the wind during whatever trek had led him to this point; to this wholly deserted place where he knelt in the snow awaiting his fate. Wholly deserted save for the android that loomed at his shoulder mid-execution, the tip of its sword poised to enter his heart from between his shoulder blades.

There could be no doubt that he was the one Seongwu was looking for.

There could be no doubt that this was the time.

The crunch of snow underfoot was all that could be heard as Seongwu carefully approached. There was something about the atmosphere that dissuaded any urgency; something about the sanctity of last moments that demanded the respect of light footsteps and slow, deliberate breathing. However, at the sound, the man’s head, which had hung low in resignation, snapped up to look at the intruder and for the first time Seongwu was able to see his face clearly. Sharp, dark eyes with fox-like intensity set in a face pinched rose-gold by the icy wind, strong jawlines drawing together to create a delicate chin, above which rested the curl of a mouth that looked as if it dearly loved to laugh. Seongwu wondered what the man’s laugh would sound like, had he not met with such dire circumstances wherein even the barest chortle was starkly out of place.

Out of necessity, the Timelord’s sense of humour had been finely honed to surface in all manner of bleak circumstance, and Seongwu could not help but admire the irony that the man’s was a face so beautiful that, ordinarily, gazing upon it would feel as if time had stopped. As it were, such a phenomenon had already occurred, but as Seongwu neared, he was struck by the thought that, if ever it were possible, perhaps his was a beauty that could stun time back into motion.

First contact, first eye contact was always the hardest. In these frozen moments, people often had the clarity to recognise them for what they were; final. So upon seeing blinding light, an outstretched hand, a handsome face, it would follow that the afterlife seemed imminent; that here was the beginning of answers.

Alas, Seongwu had none to give them, nor any for himself when it came down to it. In spite of all of their ancestral knowledge of time, the beating heart of the Universe, the Timelords could not look beyond the veil of death prematurely. They did not know what lay beyond and like everyone else, they too would one day part that curtain, albeit journeying longer in life than most, thanks to regeneration.

At other times, though, those bracing for impact dared to hope that this brief respite, however confusing, was some form of divine clemency. It was that, more than anything, that was hardest to bear seeing in the gazes of those Seongwu walked with.

Yet, as he locked eyes with the man before him, he was met with something entirely different. Shock, swiftly replaced by -

Warmth.

In the eyes of a man knelt shivering in the freezing snow, death peering over his shoulder, there was warmth. Warmth overflowing, bleeding into marbled brown irises and shining in pools of unshed tears.

Seongwu, too, was frozen at the unexpected sight, trying to decipher the reason behind it. The Timelord, however, was no stranger to confusion, riding its coattails across the Universe until he eventually came to his own conclusions, so it did not delay him for long. Besides, his superiors found haste preferable given the delicate balance of things.

Glancing down at the communicator on his wrist whereupon the details of his mission’s subject were displayed, he recalled the man’s name.

_“Hwang Minhyun.”_

The name seemed to break the both of them from a spell; seemed to break whatever barrier held back Hwang Minhyun’s no longer unshed tears as one slid down his cheek unnoticed. Unbidden, the urge to join him kneeling on the icy ground and wipe away that tear rose in Seongwu but he fought it down, trampled it like snow underfoot. That was one of the reasons he’d been selected by the Agency, he supposed, because Seongwu was a bleeding heart only in principle, not in practice. Instead, he reached out a hand to help Minhyun to his feet.

"Come with me."

The blonde man took Seongwu’s hand almost immediately but lingered in his position, as if marvelling at the warmth of another’s palm after the blizzard, the contemplation of non-existence, must have chilled him to the bone. When Minhyun looked up to meet Seongwu’s eyes again, there was a cool watchfulness that seemed to supersede whatever had been there before. Seongwu suppressed a shiver.

Then Minhyun was rising to his feet but though he retained capacity for movement, the droid behind him did not and thus its sword did not falter in the threat it posed. Minhyun teetered off balance in an attempt to avoid inadvertently impaling himself and Seongwu, too, sensed the danger, instinctively using the grip he had on his hand to pull the other man away from the perilous blade and towards himself.

Minhyun stumbled into Seongwu’s chest, the latter staggering back a couple of steps in order to regain balance for the both of them. As warm breath ghosted over his cheeks, Seongwu, close enough to see the unmelted ice crystals settled on the other’s lashes, resolutely looked beyond Minhyun to the android as if wary it would strike in this moment of vulnerability, despite his knowing better. It was not even aware of the fresh absence of its target.

Now steady on two feet, the blonde man pushed away and Seongwu was forced to let go of his forgotten grasp on the other’s hand.

“Are you okay?” A fairly redundant question in the scheme of things.

Minhyun’s gaze never left Seongwu’s face and after a moment of steady, seemingly unnecessary assessment of the man before him, he answered in the affirmative. It felt as if Minhyun had been examining his face in search of some kind of sign, some kind of flaw.

Seongwu cleared his throat and turned away. They’d dawdled long enough already and the sub-zero temperatures were beginning to challenge the nerve endings in his fingertips

"Come on, you’ll catch your death out here."

The Timelord walked away from the now empty scene of execution; retracing his steps toward the portal of light through which he had come, with the expectation that Minhyun would follow.

They always did. Hwang Minhyun was no exception.

As the two figures disappeared, the world they had left remained frozen in their wake, not even the slightest gust of wind betraying the way in which the Universe had begun to pick itself apart at the seams.

 

 

 

 

  
_GALLIFREY_  
_SEVEN SYSTEMS OF KASTERBOROUS_  
_1001100:02 from Galactic Zero Centre_

The blinding white of the extraction chamber was reminiscent of the environment they had just departed but clinical enough to be a doctor’s surgery; yet the only healing that could and would be performed was of time itself, not of its victims.

Upon his return, Seongwu found the chamber to be oddly empty. Normally there would be at least a couple of other operatives monitoring the extraction. Even the Celestial Intervention Agency had coffee breaks, it seemed, ill-timed though they were. He hoped Doyeon wouldn’t be too distracted flirting with Yoojung to remember to bring him back his own caffeinated drink.

“Where are we?”

Seongwu turned to see his companion standing a mere few steps from the glowing doorway; as if to venture further into the room was to part from a zone of comfort. The man’s stance spoke of skepticism and yet rather than darting around his new surroundings, Hwang Minhyun’s eyes seemed involuntarily drawn back to the Timelord. Nonetheless there was a significant distance between the only two occupants of the room; one that differed greatly from the way in which Minhyun had followed him through the portal, close on his heels. Seongwu wondered if the gap between them now had been a deliberate choice on Minhyun’s part. As if he was attempting to keep himself away from Seongwu and succeeding in all ways but one.

When he’d first entered the Timelord Academy during his younger years, Seongwu had been told that even then his presence had been an intimidating one. Having had the chance to know him better, his peers grew to learn that in spite of the intensity that came with his work ethic, his nature was more generous and jovial than aloof and cold. Of course, Hwang Minhyun would not have the time to experience this realisation; Seongwu accepted that he would remain a figure of intimidation in the eyes of those he met only briefly. If only because of his good looks, or so he consoled himself. Regeneration really had been kind to him this time around. Even the ears had their charm.

Yet, if Seongwu were to think on it a little more, Minhyun did not seem the type to be easily intimidated, if his cool demeanour were anything to go by.

Despite Minhyun’s apparent willingness to leave his predicament in the forests of Tara, there was every chance that he would turn and make a strategic escape into wilds of a world that still remained frozen. That would be troublesome and Seongwu was hardly in the mood to give chase so he took the precaution of strolling over to the control panel and flipping the switch to lock transit whilst maintaining the portal’s connection to the timeframe.

He addressed the human’s question as he did so. “You’re no longer on Tara, if that’s what you’re asking.”

They may have chosen him for his charisma but no matter how many times Seongwu had had this conversation, it never got easier.

“Then--” the man broke off his first line of questioning in exchange for another as he frowned, pressing a hand to his temple in confusion. “What’s- there’s something wrong with my ears. That’s weird, I can hear you fine but there’s something…”

“Missing?” The suggestion didn’t seem to abate Minhyun’s confusion so Seongwu elaborated. After all, they always told them. “There’s a sound; one you’ve been living with every day of your life, but you’ve learned not to hear it.”

“What sound?”

“Your heartbeat. Your physical processes have been time locked. Frozen between one heartbeat and the next.”

“But I’m breathing? I think…” Minhyun placed a hand on his diaphragm in contemplation.

“You very well might be but it’s just a habit. You don’t need it.”

“So I’m… in some kind of imposed physiological stasis,” Minhyun squinted at him, gesturing back the way they had come, “and they’re in a time lock?”

“Essentially, yes.”

The human took a moment to marvel at the phenomenon, an impressed quirk of the lips that Seongwu couldn’t help but find endearing, before cutting to the heart of the issue. “Why?”

“You’ve been temporarily extracted from the end of your time stream because you have information valuable to us.”

Whatever remnants of curiosity may have lingered about Minhyun’s person vanished at those words. Whether it was because the explanation shut down any hope that this might be the crux of a rescue mission, or because Minhyun perceived the situation as a threat to whatever information he wanted to keep hidden, Seongwu couldn’t tell. His own security clearance had not allowed him access to the context of this particular extraction, other than the particulars required to identify and acquire the subject. It wasn’t unusual for that to be the case from time to time, it simply meant that what Seongwu had told Minhyun was not only minimal but all that he knew.

Nevertheless, it seemed to have been enough to trigger an adverse reaction; Seongwu could almost see the alarm bells ringing in Minhyun’s head as he looked into his eyes.

Minhyun swallowed involuntarily but maintained the eye contact, steadfast, expression blank. “Whatever could the Timelords want with me?”

Of course Seongwu didn’t know, but he was sure Minhyun did. If only because according to Shadow Proclamation regulation and Gallifrey’s own policies, they were - officially - permitted no interaction with or disturbance to Level 5 planets and their inhabitants. Even so, the subversive actions of the Celestial Intervention Agency were unknown even to the general populace of Gallifrey, let alone others, and Seongwu’s superiors laboured to keep it that way. Moreover, the Timelords’ self-imposed isolation after the last Great Time War had banished them to the dusty shadows of myth for many civilisations. The fact that Hwang Minhyun even knew who it was that had orchestrated his extraction without Seongwu’s saying so, was telling enough.

There was barely time for Seongwu to raise an eyebrow, however, before the outer door of the extraction chamber was sliding open to reveal a veritable entourage. Bathed in blossoming red robes and bearing the weight of the traditional golden headdress, the President of the Gallifreyan High Council entered with controlled grace, accompanied by two bodyguards and on her left, the Director of the Celestial Intervention Agency; the only face Seongwu had anticipated seeing that day.

“Lady President,” Seongwu greeted, automatically dipping into a bow. “My apologies; had I known we would be receiving such esteemed guests I would have made more of an effort - prepared refreshments, done something new with my hair, that sort of thing.”

“The thought is appreciated, Agent Ong, but seeing you have completed your task is satisfactory enough,” President Kwon replied, the sparkle of her eyes betraying her affection for the agent, in spite of her otherwise stoic features and tight-lipped, cordial smile.

Director Park, as usual, had less patience for Seongwu’s lip service. "We’ll be taking it from here, Ong. I assume you’ve finished bringing our- _guest_ up to speed?"

“Of course,” Seongwu assured with a smile considerably less genuine than the one he had worn moments ago when addressing the President. “Well, Hwang,” he began, turning to look at the reason they had all gathered. “It looks like your ride is here.”

The blonde man said nothing but began to slowly make his way towards the entourage from where he had been standing off to the side behind Seongwu. He had barely taken more than a few steps before the guards, who had moved to meet him, were gripping his arms and leading him briskly towards the exit as if they couldn’t get him away from Seongwu fast enough. For whose benefit, Seongwu wasn’t sure. Although not excessively violent, there was a roughness in their actions that spoke of an urgency that would have put Seongwu on edge had the presence of the President not already been an almost literal red flag.

“See you soon,” he quipped to the retreating figure. Sight trained on the stiffness of Minhyun’s shoulders, Seongwu wondered how much effort he was putting into not looking back.

The President inclined her head before striding after them, closely followed by the Director who fixed Seongwu with a glare before her departure. “Save the lip next time. And for Rassilon’s sake, _fix your uniform.”_

Then, he was left alone in the sterile white room. He missed the weight of Minhyun’s eyes on him already.

“Fix your uniform,” he mimicked to the empty air, half-heartedly buttoning up his jacket leaving the stiff upstanding collar to gape open still.

Despite operating in the President’s unique jurisdiction and under her purview, it was rare for her to actually visit the site of the Celestial Intervention Agency’s operations. Whatever mission was currently in motion, it was significant enough to have cleared the base, or at least this quarter, of all personnel uninvolved in this particular operation. Significant enough for the President to handle questioning herself.

And Seongwu had no idea why. No one told him anything important in this forsaken place, he griped internally as he made his way back over to the control panel. Long fingers swiftly tapping away at the embedded keyboard, he set about accessing the CIA database.

_Search: Hwang Minhyun_

_One (1) result._

It took Seongwu a moment to recognise the person in the thumbnail.

Brown hair suited him.

The result provided a brief profile but the only details included were those Seongwu had already been privy to.

 _Name: 황민현 (Hwang Minhyun)_  
_Species: Human_  
_Planet of Origin: Earth_  
_Birth: 950809_  
_Point of Death: Fixed_

However, as Seongwu clicked on the attached file he was met with a sharp reminder in glaring red letters:

 

_ACCESS DENIED. INSUFFICIENT SECURITY CLEARANCE._

 

It wasn’t exactly a surprise but that didn’t mean Seongwu was any happier to see it. Fruitlessly, he spent time researching all the surrounding circumstances: Minhyun’s birth date, family name, the history of Earth, the history of Tara, Gallifreyan High Command’s list of wanted intergalactic criminals.

No mention.

Nothing.

Restless, with hours elapsed and no sign of Minhyun’s return, Seongwu set out into the web of corridors. Perhaps walking about would be of some help in clearing his thoughts.

It wasn’t exactly intentional, though he wasn’t exactly opposed to it either, but as Seongwu rounded a corner he spotted the two guards from before stationed outside one of the doors. As he approached, Director Park exited the room clearly frustrated and her agitation only increased at the sight of Seongwu attempting to catch a glimpse of Minhyun through the rapidly decreasing split in the door.

“Ong. You’re not supposed to be here,” she reprimanded. “Don’t you have administrative work you ought to be doing instead of wandering the halls?”

“One always has administrative work to be doing, Director,” Seongwu replied smoothly, smiling through barely concealed, but reciprocated, dislike. “Which is why I was in search of Doyeon as she might be able to lend me a hand.”

“Agent Kim did not report to work today as she was feeling unwell.”

“Then perhaps Yoojung?”

The Director’s reply was just as clipped. “Agent Choi is currently undertaking tasks for us in Arcadia.”

Clearly impatient with entertaining Seongwu’s facetious requests she turned to one of the guards. “See he returns to his work station,” she instructed before starting off down the hall.

“Alright, alright,” Seongwu raised his hands in defence. “I’m going, _I’m going.”_

After returning to the extraction chamber, it was another couple of hours before the relevant authorities returned with a subdued MInhyun in tow.

“We trust you’ll take it from here, Agent Ong,” was all the President said. “We appreciate your discretion, as always.” The words were a little pointed.

She looked tired. Minhyun, too, looked the worse for wear - but in an entirely different manner, Seongwu realised as the other man stepped further into the room.

Apparently uninterested in the mundanity of returning their subject, the entourage left and Seongwu and Minhyun were once again left alone. The latter seemed placid enough until Seongwu reached for his arm and he flinched away.

Seongwu’s eyebrow furrowed in concern, in consternation, as he examined the shadow of red that had bloomed against Minhyun’s pale cheek; the abrasion decorating his cheekbone, the cut at the corner of his lip. Seongwu’s stomach lurched as his gaze swept up and down Minhyun’s form, aware other such injuries - or worse - might exist, hidden from sight.

Rather than making eye contact, Minhyun’s gaze was fixed on the floor, just as it had been when Seongwu had intercepted his execution back in that Taran forest.

Seongwu himself had never been the one asking the questions, yet he’d nevertheless assumed that Director Park, to whom the responsibility fell, received the answers she desired without fail. Her method, Seongwu was ashamed to say, had never crossed his mind. Perhaps he had assumed the interviewee gave up their knowledge willingly, either because they did not have the context to understand the weight of the information they revealed, or because they had little left to tie them to their world, let alone anything strong enough to stop them from confiding in whichever being had plucked them from the jaws of death (only to promptly return them.) The mission briefs varied in detail; they operated on a need-to-know basis and in Minhyun’s case the briefing Seongwu had received had been sparse. Leaving him to wonder just what it was about him that was so vital.

Looking at Minhyun now, Seongwu wondered if the Director and their President had been able to extract the answers they were looking for, after all.

Where did that defiance come from? Seongwu yearned to know. As he watched Minhyun’s gaze remain firmly fixed on the ground, he wondered; was his resistance out of love or loyalty, perhaps? Or shame?

Whatever it was, was a mystery to Seongwu.

Minhyun was a mystery.

One that Seongwu wanted to solve, wanted to save. Whether or not the two desires were mutually exclusive was something he was yet to discover.

Seongwu was, for once, at a loss for words. “I’m sorry- I don’t...I don’t know why they…”

“Of course you don’t,” Minhyun agreed softly, slowly lifting his gaze. “You don’t know anything.”

The Timelord would almost have been offended if not for the tone of total relief that washed over Minhyun’s words. Seongwu, it seemed, understood even less than he thought.

“I’m a dead man walking, why wouldn’t they?” Minhyun continued in a low voice with a mirthless curl of his lip. “The only courtesy left is what matters to the living.”

“I’m living,” Seongwu blurted out without thinking, rushing to explain himself when the other man raised a speculative eyebrow. “I mean, I’m living and you matter to me.”

He didn’t know why he had said it, only that it was true.

At those words, Minhyun’s previously listless gaze softened with such an intensity of emotion that Seongwu was unable to describe its exact nature. Although it was, perhaps, similar to that which he had observed upon their first meeting in the snow.

Minhyun let out a breath that neither of them knew he had been holding and turned to face the portal that still glowed in menacing promise. “We’re putting me back now, aren’t we? On Tara.”

“Yes,” Seongwu murmured, preoccupied by the lack of anything akin to distress in the other man’s words. If anything, there was acceptance, even expectation that bordered on anticipation.

It was then that Seongwu realised he truly, really, absolutely, totally, entirely, sincerely knew nothing.

Out that door, on no uncertain terms, death was waiting for Minhyun and yet, he exuded a calm that Seongwu had only ever dreamed of possessing. Even if, in the seconds when the android had pushed him to the ground, he had accepted his fate; had this brief interlude not shaken his resolve? Did he not now wonder what could be had if he somehow endured a little longer?

Head bowed. Knees folded. Signs of a scuffle had either been covered by the continued snowfall, or - never existed at all.

Something cold tightened its hold around Seongwu’s hearts. Minhyun’s hands, perhaps.

“The Universe can wait.”

Minhyun’s gaze snapped away from the door and fixed on Seongwu in confusion, waiting for him to elaborate.

“It’s waited billions of years for you to die, I’m sure it won’t mind waiting just a little longer.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, _don’t go into the light_. Not yet - let’s just … take a slight detour.” Sauntering back towards the outer door, Seongwu gestured out into the hallway as it opened. “Shall we?” he invited, holding out a hand to Minhyun.

The flicker of light in Minhyun’s eyes at that moment sent Seongwu’s hearts into conflict; one telling him go, the other telling him stop. Because -

\- what a farce it would be. To be the one to deliver a man to his death and yet wish to gift to him an experience of life that would only make that deliverance more painful in the end.

Nonetheless, Seongwu barely faltered. Maybe it was his bizarre sense of guilt talking but Hwang Minhyun deserved at least some happiness as he neared his end, if there was to be no happy ending.

Something akin to excitement fluttered in the pit of Seongwu’s stomach as Minhyun took his hand and the two shared a small smile before starting out into the corridor.

“Is this allowed?” Minhyun wondered aloud, voice hushed in fear of detection in spite of the fact that the halls Seongwu led him down were inexplicably empty.

Seongwu glanced at the man beside him before looking ahead once again. “It’s not _not_ allowed.”

“Wow, I’m incredibly reassured.”

“As you should be.” Seongwu was sardonic only in part, because; “Why would you care whether or not we’re breaking rules that don’t pertain to you?”

“They pertain to you,” was all Minhyun said in answer.

“Oh, so you’re worried our Lady President is going to put me in the naughty corner if she finds out?”

“Do Timelords have a naughty corner?”

Seongwu grimaced, remembering the reports he’d heard about Shada. “Well, of a kind.”

The two companions took a sharp turn into another empty corridor before Seongwu was authorising their entry into a similarly deserted room resembling a docking station. Spread from wall to wall was a line of identical, polished cylindrical pods, about 10 feet in height and each with what looked like a door cut into their curved surface.

Seongwu led Minhyun, still hand in hand, to the one at the furthermost end and began to unlock it. The Timelord reluctantly let go of Minhyun’s warm hand in order to do so.

“Is this yours?”

“Why,” Seongwu began, pushing into the pod, “do you keep asking questions that you don’t want to know the answer to?”

Something Seongwu would optimistically term a chuckle escaped Minhyun’s lips as they entered. As the Timelord made directly for the central control panel, Minhyun stopped on the entrance ramp gazing around in poorly disguised shock.

Though appearing small on the outside, the pod’s door had opened into a much larger control room with a hexagonal centre console, above which rose a glowing pillar of glass. The effect of Timelord dimensional technology and often something other species found difficult to comprehend initially. Or, ever.

Without looking up, Seongwu assured him, “It’s okay, just say it. Whatever your impression is, just let it out.”

“It’s-”

“Yes?” Seongwu encouraged.

“It’s- _clean._ ”

“What?” Seongwu’s head snapped up. “Of course it’s cle- _why wouldn’t it be clean?”_

Minhyun suppressed his obvious amusement in order to remark, “Let’s just say you don’t strike me as a typically tidy person.”

“Why would that matter?” Seongwu replied, trying not to sound petulant at the assumption. “It’s not like I’m the one that pilots it.” Technically this make and model was designed to be piloted by 6 individuals, so even if Seongwu had, he wouldn’t necessarily own it, per say.

“So, it’s not yours,” Minhyun confirmed, almost smugly. “You’re stealing it.”

“Borrowing,” Seongwu corrected. “I’m planning on returning it.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Minhyun continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “Aren’t you, like, the government?”

Seongwu could almost have laughed at the naivety. Although Minhyun was unaware, Seongwu was in the employ of an organisation established with the specific purpose of subverting the very foundation of Timelord law in order to achieve its objectives. Their department was supposedly above it, in one sense at least; an intervention agency in a political landscape of covenanted intergalactic non-interference.

“The rule of law? In _my_ ancient civilisation? It’s less likely than you’d think.”

Minhyun scoffed at that, moving to stand beside him at the controls. “So it’s, what? A spacecraft?” he prompted.

“More or less. Space-time machine is closer. ‘Time and relative dimension in space.’”

“Sounds like the kind of thing you’d have a handy acronym for,” Minhyun suggested off-handedly, preoccupying himself with examining the various controls.

“TARDIS,” Seongwu replied. “It is rather handy, yes.”

“What are we doing here on your borrowed ship, then, Captain?”

Seongwu’s hearts jumped at hearing the title leave Minhyun’s lips, incorrect though it was. "Bucket list," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck and resuming flight orientation.

"What?"

“That’s a thing humans have, yeah? List of things they wanna do before they, uh, drop the bucket.”

“Kick the bucket.”

“Right. That. So?”

_“So?”_

“So - where do you want to go?”

Minhyun paused in contemplation. “I- there’s one place I can think of.”

“And that is?” Seongwu asked, fingers poised to input the location.

“What? Do you know the coordinates of every place in the Universe?” Minhyun elbowed Seongwu out of the way and the latter briefly wondered how they had so easily fallen into a comeradary that was almost familiar. “I’ll do it. You were just going to Google Maps it or something anyway, right?”

Seongwu spluttered. “Go- Google Maps? I don’t need some kind of- whatever that is. I didn’t train all those years at the Timelord Academy to be thus insulted.”

“Oh, yep, Spiral Web Intergalactic Navigation Guide,” Minhyun read aloud from the screen he had pulled closer to them. “Google Maps. Same thing.”

After inputting the location, Minhyun graciously handed the controls back to Seongwu in order to chart their course. As he pulled the final lever, Seongwu wondered if Minhyun was feeling the same exhilaration that he could sense vibrating in his bones.

It was an unexpected series of mechanical groans that signalled their arrival. Seongwu saw Minhyun’s face warp in comic bemusement as they landed and so leapt into defense of his piloting skills.

“It’s meant to sound like that.”

Stifling a laugh, the human shook his head. “You alw- it sounds like you left the brakes on.”

Seongwu sniffed at the suggestion. “C’mon, 21st Century Earth, what would _you_ know about landing a space-time vessel?”

“Oh really? Then how do you think I got to Tara, genius?”

“It feels good to be addressed by my true title. I am curious though; how did you find yourself on Tara?”

At the question, Minhyun’s expression, previously carefree (miraculously so, considering the circumstances), completely shuttered. Seongwu was reminded that he wasn’t the only one who wanted to know such a thing and the last ones who had asked hadn’t exactly been kind about it.

“Let’s see what it’s like outside,” Minhyun merely said, changing the topic, albeit a little coldly, and headed towards the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 _EARTH_  
_SECTOR 8023 OF THE THIRD QUADRANT_  
_58044 6848:84 from Galactic Zero Centre_

Stepping out from the TARDIS, the two were greeted by the brilliant afternoon sun, the faint roar of waves crashing and the heavy scent carried on the wind that heralded the call of the ocean. Behind them, the TARDIS’ chameleon circuit had changed its outward appearance into a street vendor’s van at the beginning of a pier.

At seeing the weather, Minhyun began to unwrap himself from the many layers he had dressed in when preparing for the freezing temperatures of a Taran winter, leaving him in a satin shirt in deep purple, relatively more suitable for the current conditions. He then pulled his aviator goggles off over his head and placed them on top of the pile in his hands.

Seongwu gallantly held open the TARDIS door for him but as Minhyun made to enter, Seongwu said, "Quick, just throw them in!"

Minhyun stopped in his tracks, appalled. "What? No!"

Seizing the pile from Minhyun’s hand, Seongwu had no qualms about tossing them through the door before swiftly closing it. There was a tense moment while Minhyun stared at him incredulously before breaking into laughter.

"What? You were taking too long!" Seongwu pouted. "What if people saw and started asking why the seafood pancake van is bigger on the inside?"

"You can read hangul?" Minhyun asked in surprise, gesturing where the product name was painted onto the side of the van.

Seongwu merely tapped his temple and said, "TARDIS translation matrix. That’s how we’re able to talk."

Minhyun accepted that with the same sparkle of intellectual intrigue Seongwu had seen when he’d first explained the extraction chamber’s time lock process, before turning to gaze around at the familiar surroundings.

Seeing the way Minhyun had instantly relaxed, it wasn’t hard for Seongwu to work out where they were. “So this is home, huh? Where you started life?”

“In more ways than one,” Minhyun agreed as they stepped out onto the pier.

It was mid-afternoon and they blended into the hustle and bustle, no one paying any particular mind to the two men taking more time to appreciate the surroundings than perhaps was usual. Finding a space, they sat on the edge of the pier side by side, dangling their legs off.

It was nothing like Seongwu’s homeworld and he appreciated it all the more for that. Gallifrey was a world of burnt orange skies, fields of red grass, and trees adorned with silvered foliage that reflected the morning sunlight, making it look like the forests were on fire. This, this endless expanse of blue before him, below and above and wide and deep, was like nothing he’d ever seen on Gallifrey.

It was breathtaking.

It was beautiful, and as he admired the planes of Minhyun’s face, the way his eyes fluttered shut as he leant back on his elbows contentedly soaking in the atmosphere, Seongwu couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised. Sometimes the Universe worked in mysterious ways but other times it boasted crystal clarity. Because of course, why wouldn’t the most beautiful people hail from the most beautiful of places?

"You must love it," Seongwu remarked clearing his throat and wistfully gazing out at the view. For a moment, at least. Ultimately, he found his gaze drawn back to the man beside him.

Minhyun’s blonde hair glowed gold in the sun and the collar of his shirt exposed the delicate dip of his collarbones as well as the fine chain clasped around his neck. The sight of Hwang Minhyun bathed in sunlight, expression blissful, looking like royalty in spite of the abrasions he had been dealt was not one Seongwu would easily forget. If he hadn't known better he would have thought it was one or both of his own hearts that had stopped.

Minhyun hummed in agreement, eyes still closed leisurely. "Although my love is sadly unreciprocated.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m allergic to it,” Minhyun explained, opening his eyes to look at Seongwu.

"To the ocean?" Seongwu’s surprise was evident.

"The salt of it. Not deathly so but enough for it to hurt."

"So why do you come here?"

"Because I still love it regardless. It’s often the way of things, isn’t it?" Minhyun mused. "That the things we love are the things that cause us the most pain, but that doesn't mean we love them any less."

Seongwu liked to think he was perceptive enough to realise his companion was no longer talking about the ocean; he merely wished he were able to acquire enough insight into just what it was instead.

Minhyun continued unprompted, “And we’re here now because- it’s worth it to see it one last time, even if the finality of it is painful in itself.”

The two fell into silence as Minhyun’s words, heavy enough to linger for a moment, were eventually swept away by the sea breeze.

In time, Minhyun suggested that they go down onto the shore and Seongwu readily agreed. _Whatever you want,_ he found himself thinking. The ability he had to facilitate some experience of joy for Minhyun, not matter how meagre in the circumstances, was oddly intoxicating for Seongwu. Inexplicably, he felt that there were many things he would do if only they made Minhyun happy.

That was an impulse that ran alongside a vein of concern, it seemed, as barefoot in the sand, Seongwu reached out to encircle Minhyun’s wrist, tugging him away from where the waves were lapping ever closer.

“Are you going to be okay if you do that?”

Minhyun looked at him with incredulity but didn’t move to tear himself from Seongwu’s gentle grasp. “I’m one heartbeat away from, well, dying and you’re worried I’m going to get an allergic reaction from dipping my toes in the sea?”

Seongwu flushed as his own absurdity of logic was pointed out. Scuffing a heel against the sand he asked, “Well are you? Going to have a reaction, I mean.”

“Probably. But not for long, anyway.”

The Timelord nearly choked on the implication and watched, perplexed, as Minhyun began to wander along the water’s edge with Seongwu in tow, unsure how the other man could be so blasé in reference to his own death.

But if here, at least, Minhyun was at peace then who was Seongwu to disturb it? Slipping his hand from Minhyun’s wrist and lacing their fingers together, he ignored the reality that he had, in fact, been tasked with doing just that.

Further along the shore, Minhyun watched as Seongwu bent down to examine a pearlescent shell embedded in the sand.

“You’re so young,” Minhyun marvelled aloud almost without thinking, eyes raking over Seongwu’s face in a way that made the Timelord blush.

“I’m really not,” he contested with a wry smile, averting his eyes as he stood, shell clasped between his fingers.

In this incarnation, he’d found himself in the body of a young man but his hearts ached enough between them to make up for the absence of the bone-weary exhaustion his numerical age would ordinarily bring.

“No, you are; it’s your eyes.” Minhyun wasn't so much insisting as he was observing to himself.

Swallowing thickly at the odd intimacy of Minhyun’s observation, he batted his eyelashes comically. _“Why thank you.”_

He was rewarded with a chuckle from Minhyun, to whom he presented the shell he had just found. It was chipped a little but, still pretty in spite of the wear and tear.

Minhyun accepted it with a grateful smile. The type of smile Seongwu had seen the potential for when he’d first encountered the other man. “Thank you but sometimes it’s best to leave things where they lie and let nature take its course.”

His voice had been soft, kind, but Seongwu felt the words wound him anyway, like the jagged edge of the shell dragging across his insides.

Minhyun squeezed his hand in reassurance and bent down to return the shell to the groove it had carved in the sand. Soon enough, time and the tide would partner together to smooth its edges, wearing it away until it was no more than grains of sand scattered on the beach.

It felt like they had all the time in the world when in fact it was the opposite. Seongwu’s lifespan might have been theoretically endless, and Minhyun’s might be considered the same given his current physiological state, and as much as Seongwu would adore being able to stay like this, together until they’d watched the sun set and rise again a million times - it wasn’t possible.

One day, the Universe would become impatient waiting upon Minhyun’s return; missing, until then, a vital piece of the machinery that would allow the fabric of time to move smoothly across its loom.

And after all, theirs was a CIA registered TARDIS. Seongwu wasn’t so naive as to be unaware that they knew where the two were, the only question was why they had not seen fit to pursue them.

Minhyun must have seen him glancing at his communicator. “Time to go back?” he inquired in a valiant attempt to sound indifferent to the answer.

Maybe he was, Seongwu wouldn’t know.

“What if we didn’t?” The question was a measured one. For some reason Seongwu couldn’t help but test the waters.

Clearly surprised, Minhyun raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your job, though? To take me back?”

"The Timelord naughty corner can’t be that bad, surely," Seongwu quipped but Minhyun did not share his amusement.

"When- when I was being questioned…they…your President is so _scared_ and yet if the circumstances of my death were different…maybe she would have less reason to fear, so why doesn't she change them?"

The answer was on the tip of Seongwu’s tongue and maybe they were in close enough proximity for Minhyun to taste it.

"She can’t, can she?" Minhyun reiterated seeing the acknowledgement in Seongwu’s eyes. "I’m right, aren't I?"

He wanted so badly to ask; why are you here? Why did they need you? Why are they so scared of you? How can I make it better? ー But he knew it would be of no use.

Seongwu sighed heavily. "Time is- fluid. Generally. It may seem to be a straight, sequential line but from an objective, non-linear point of view…it’s more like a 4-dimensional constellation. The kind that we draw links between in order to form an image."

Bending down to illustrate his point in the sand, Seongwu continued. "Those connections may change, warp, lengthen, but the stars - the points at which they connect - must stay the same. Fixed. Only the Timelords have the ability to discern which events are fixed and which are not; and even then it’s…complicated. But-"

"But my death is one of them," Minhyun finished for him, staring down at the one star in the sand that Seongwu’s finger had paused on.

"Yes," Seongwu uttered, watching as Minhyun knelt beside him and drew a wonky love heart over that star in the centre of his diagram.

"I understand, and I’m okay," Minhyun iterated, calm but firm, as the daylight dwindled. He reached up to mindlessly brush the tips of his fingers over the constellation of sorts, the pattern of three moles, that decorated Seongwu’s own cheek. His touch was gentle and Seongwu held his breath, heartbeat thudding fast and loud in his ears, as Minhyun said, "Let’s go back."

Seongwu should have known to expect such an answer. In a way, he had already received it.

_Sometimes it’s best to leave things where they lie and let nature take its course._

In the sky behind them, the blazing red sun slipped slowly beneath the horizon, its colour bleeding out around it, mixing with the fading blue and reflecting in the clouds. Nature’s palette spoke of sacrifice. The darkness in its wake felt empty in comparison but the sun would rise again, just as spectacularly, tomorrow.

Some, however, would not be around to see it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _GALLIFREY_  
_SEVEN SYSTEMS OF KASTERBOROUS_  
_1001100:02 from Galactic Zero Centre_

A gust of wind; a mechanical gasp - and then the TARDIS was materialising in the extraction chamber, mere seconds after it had left the docking station, as if they’d never left. No longer a street vendor’s van, it reverted back to its original state; cylindrical in appearance, but as the two men alighted it nonetheless stood out in the small, white room. An all too tangible reminder of the temptation to bend the laws of time to their will, however ineffectively.

Minhyun was clearly trying not to look at it and in a perverted parallel of his first arrival in the chamber, he was fixated on the glowing doorway as if he found it easier to stare into the bright light than to look at Seongwu. Minhyun’s eyes on him or not, Seongwu could feel the pain of separation beginning to blur at the edges of his consciousness regardless.

“How are you okay with this?”

Grimacing, the blonde man glanced at Seongwu for the first time since they’d entered the room. “Maybe it’s hard for you to understand because it seems so far away for you; maybe Timelords like you do die, many times, but you’re reborn almost as many. Cheating true death like that must make it seem like your adversary but for most of us, it’s just a part of life and it comes to all of us.”

“You’re so young, though…”

“I don’t regret any of the choices that led me to this point. You said it yourself, the Universe needs me to die.”

_What if I need you to live?_

_Selfish,_ he chastised himself. _In the course of your work, it is the ideal scenario for the subject to want to return to their moment of death. Who are you to make it harder for the both of you?_

But Minhyun wasn't just a subject, was he?

Something within Seongwu had felt that distinction from the very start even if he could not explain why. Or perhaps it was too easy to explain, that if any CIA agent were to make the faux pas of developing a crush on one of their mission subjects, of course it would be Seongwu, ever testing the boundaries even without meaning to.

Minhyun, redressed in the clothing he’d worn on Tara, reached up to unclasp something from his neck. The chain of which Seongwu had caught sight of earlier. A locket, he had thought at first but upon closer inspection; a compass.

Minhyun pressed the compass into Seongwu’s hand and gently bent his fingers over it. "Take this and open it when you need guidance. It always helped me."

“I will.” What use an ordinary compass would be to a space-time traveller, Seongwu wasn't sure, but he knew Minhyun was intelligent enough to know that, so he held his tongue.

“Thank you for everything,” Minhyun murmured before leaning up to brush a chaste kiss against Seongwu’s cheek.

The kiss was fleeting but it spoke to Seongwu of gratitude and, unexpectedly, restraint.

As he watched the other man pull back, Seongwu couldn’t help but say, “Don’t thank me.”

“Don’t assume you know what I’m thanking you for.”

There it was again, that cryptic smile, and Seongwu could barely bring himself to contemplate what he had gotten himself into because he knew he was going to miss that smile. He was going to miss Hwang Minhyun.

He couldn't say the same for Minhyun. Although there were occasions when they took the precaution of wiping the memory of the person they’d extracted, more often the course of restarting time rendered the experiences that had occurred outside of time nonexistent, save perhaps in the dreams of the subject. Not that they would have time to dream or to ponder remembrance before they died.

As soon as Minhyun stepped out that door and resumed his place, he would no longer remember Seongwu or anywhere they had been together. Which was as it should be, Seongwu told himself.

“Alright,” he said striding over to the control panel. “Let’s get this over with.” Flipping the switch to reenable transit through the extraction gate, he asked one final question.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

And with that Minhyun was stepping through the gap in reality, shining brightly for a moment before the light consumed him entirely.

The flick of another switch, and time was running again.

And with that, Hwang Minhyun had died.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
_TARA_  
_MUTTER’S SPIRAL_  
_58054 6847:32 from Galactic Zero Centre_

The pursuit had been a lengthy one, its participants braving the elements in the midst of a brewing storm, but exhaustion lay heavy on the shoulders of only one of them. The blonde man had had a head start but his pace had been slowed by the weight of royal responsibility on his back whilst the android on his tail was gaining ground.

They came into sight of each other for the first time as the android broke into a forest clearing to find the man already on his hands and knees in the snow. Had he tripped? The android cared not as something almost smug, akin to contempt, crossed its features, glowing in the piercing electric green of its irises.

"They’re not here," the man declared as he scrambled to his feet to face his pursuer.

Brushing snow from his clothes, he adopted a carefree demeanour in spite of knowing there was no more running. This was it.

"You fell for a ruse. Why would we bring them all the way out here? To what end? No, they are long gone. Off world now. You know who he is, what he can do."

The blonde man watched carefully as his opponent drew its weapon; a sword divested from the murdered Royal Guard, no doubt already turned against its former owner and countless other Palace innocents. The android was not to be goaded but it knew the merits of eliminating anyone who might pose a potential risk to their plans in the future.

Unarmed, the man could only avoid the android’s attacks for so long until he found the breath knocked out of him, forced to his knees by a steel grip on his shoulder. Then the tip of the blade was pressing into his back.

The android made its final move as the man made his;

_"The King is dead, long live the King."_

 

 

 

 

 

 _GALLIFREY_  
_SEVEN SYSTEMS OF KASTERBOROUS_  
_1001100:02 from Galactic Zero Centre_

It had been almost anticlimactic. Seongwu had had a screen from which to observe the events unfold, allowing him to glimpse the split second in which the android’s blade had pierced Minhyun’s heart, collapsing forward into the snow as the android unsheathed it from his chest and teleported away. Seongwu had clung to the control panel until his knuckles were white, afraid his knees would give out at the sight and only then had he looked away.

Somehow, Seongwu could bear to watch. Felt that he owed Minhyun at least that, as painful as it was, as much as he struggled with his own powerlessness. What he couldn’t bear was imagining himself continuing on to the next mission, and the one after that, and the one after that.

He felt lost, cast adrift in an ocean of uncertainty, his only anchor the weight of the compass still clenched in his hand. He needed guidance, whatever meaning Minhyun had been able to garner from the object was something Seongwu hungered for.

He clicked the compass open.

Minhyun had been right, after all, because as soon as Seongwu opened that compass he was overwhelmed with certainty about what he had to do. The realisation that maybe he’d never really had a choice.

He couldn't stay here.

The compass needle spun wildly, the extraction chamber interfering with its detection of magnetic fields. Above it, a photo Minhyun had cut into shape to fit into the upper lid of the compass and kept close to his heart.

A picture of Seongwu.

_He couldn't stay here._

Not when those he reported to, those who - when it came down to the wire - he would have wholly trusted in spite of his truancy, had kept this from him. Had lied, had omitted, had manipulated.

Somehow, Minhyun knew Seongwu and they had _known_ ー and they had hidden it.

Oh, woe, to be centuries old and still so naïve. To have seen what he had seen and still to find his trust misplaced.

It now made sense why there had been no one else in the extraction chamber when he and Minhyun had first arrived. The President and the Director had no doubt been watching, waiting, hoping that Minhyun would reveal something in the presence of Seongwu alone. Just as they had permitted their seaside excursion in the full knowledge that if they were to elope, the CIA registered TARDIS would have made it all too easy to find and capture them.

Yet, still, Seongwu had barely any sense of what was truly going on. He had no idea how Minhyun knew him or why High Command was so sacred. But Minhyun had, and ー as if Seongwu didn't already have enough guilt to bear ー it was because of Seongwu that Minhyun been questioned so brutally.

They must have been watching as he and Minhyun said their final farewell. No doubt they were watching now.

Closing the compass and clenching it in one hand, Seongwu strode over to the control panel and deliberately, systematically, pressed every single button.

As the room shuddered, lights flickering on and off, sounds of mechanical agony splitting the air, in came the President and the Director, guards close on their heels.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Director Park snarled but the President placed a placating hand on her arm.

"Ong, what happened? Did something happen to the target?"

 _Target._ He hated that word; hated the imagery that came with it, the idea that the Agency had set its sights on a person, intent on bringing about their untimely demise. There was no argument that the individuals they interacted with in the course of their operations met with their demise but it was in fact, by nature, timely. In the sense that they would all meet their own ends eventually, and that this was where the Universe had determined that meeting would happen. The Agency, and Seongwu himself, had no more hand in bringing about that fate than the coroner who might survey the case afterward.

It was a bizarre position to wrangle with, to be so intimately involved in the final moments of people, powerless to do anything to help them and yet neither be the cause of their death. Having been helplessly on both ends of the spectrum in the past, it was an assurance Seongwu had to repeat to himself everytime he stepped out of the extraction chamber, everytime he watched the light fade from another’s eyes, everytime he found himself lying awake at night questioning the ethics of it all. It was all he could cling to, that he’d had no hand in their death.

Except for Minhyun. There, it seemed, his conscience could not be entirely clear, regardless of how much Seongwu knew about his own culpability.

"Yes, you could say something happened. He died."

The Director rolled her eyes. "This is childish. I knew we shouldn't have selected you but someone had a soft spot. Look at him now, Boah, your baby is throwing a tantrum."

"Director Park, it would be pertinent for you to remember just who you are speaking to. Is that any way to address your President?"

"Lady President-"

"Leave us, I will speak to him alone." The President’s voice was like steel and she turned to the two guards at her side. "You as well."

"But your safety-"

"Seongwu won’t hurt me. We’re going to talk this out like adults, Timelord to Timelord." Still they hesitated so she acquiesced and took one of the guard’s sidearms. "See? Now I am armed and more than capable of defending myself against an unarmed man."

Only then, did they depart leaving the two of them alone.

"Now, Ong, talk to me," the President invited with splayed hands, the weapon she had just acquired resting in the sleeve of her robe.

Biting his lip, Seongwu tried to repress the water gathering in his eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart," she sighed. "I should never have let you get so close to a target, I’m sorry. Come here."

The Lady President of Gallifrey opened her arms and Seongwu walked straight into her embrace.

Most high-born Gallifreyans entered the Timelord Academy as mere children. Contact with parents, even those from the Great Houses, was minimal and more often nonexistent. Ong Seongwu had been born to parents in the Drylands, essentially making him an orphan as soon as he entered the citadel. The closest thing Seongwu had had to a mother over the past few centuries had been Kwon Boah. At first it had been bizarre to see the woman who had mentored him so closely be elected President of the High Council after her predecessor had gone missing on a routine ambassadorial visit to Etra Prime, along with the planet itself. Then, she had recruited him into the Celestial Intervention Agency, as someone she trusted enough to do what was required. Someone, he was not too naïve to realise, that she had believed would be loyal to her before all else.

Boah rubbed his back soothingly as he rested his cheek against her shoulder blade. "It hurts, doesn't it? I’m sorry."

"I’m sorry too," Seongwu murmured before drawing back several steps, the gun she had taken from her guard now in his hands, raised, pointed at her. "I wish you had talked to me…I wish you had told me."

"About what?" Boah’s voice was level and she was watching him carefully.

"About Minhyun. _About Minhyun and I._ "

"I wish I could have too, but you understand why I couldn't, don’t you?"

"What did you think I would do? Betray you?"

"Look where you are now. Look how far you’ve come, all for losing him."

"This isn't about him, this is about you lying to me."

"Oh, don’t be so naive. You work for a secret intelligence agency, I don’t believe for a moment that you suddenly have qualms about telling little lies."

“Little lies? You had me kill my-”

“Your what? _You don’t know, do you?_ How can you judge me for what I’ve done if you have no grasp of what exactly that is?”

Seongwu was silent as Boah continued.

“You don’t know him and you didn’t kill him. He was already dying, already dead. We were simply a stop upon the way.”

“Funny how, when you’re witness to so many lives ending you start to wonder if maybe you’re part of the reason.”

“You couldn’t have done anything; those events were fixed points in time.”

“But what if I could have changed them? Have you ever even tried? What if I went back right now and saved Minhyun?”

Exasperation bled into Boah’s expression as she regarded Seongwu with reproval. “For Rassilon’s sake, think about what it is you’re talking about. There’s no coming back from that. You would really endanger us, yourself, the Spiral Politic? And all for what, this _human?_ A human whose time has already come and gone, like a mayfly.”

At her words, Seongwu’s gun-wielding arm, that had previously begun to waver, strengthened anew and Boah raised her hands in a placating gesture.

“That’s the sidearm of the President’s personal security. There isn’t a stun setting.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“All I want is to make sure you understand what you’re doing. We wouldn’t want you to do anything you would regret.”

Seongwu was old enough to know that regret was unavoidable; it was all you could do to learn how to manage those regrets you did accumulate. Absence of regret was a dangerous sign; symptomatic of a hubristic refusal to re-evaluate the past and approach the future just that little bit wiser.

The Timelords, for all their knowledge, for all that their noosphere extended beyond that of nearly every other civilisation, had never been wise. Historically, the Sisterhood of Karn had always made sure to remind them of that and Seongwu was beginning to agree.

The Gallifreyan Homeworld was as close to the centre of its galaxy as possible without ending up in a black hole ー and it showed. Oh, how it showed. Seongwu could see it in the presumptive, callous way they plucked souls from their timestreams on a self-serving, political whim; the way doing so violated the non-interference policy at the heart of the Timelord doctrine they outwardly professed to believe in. He could see it in the way they teetered on the edge of something dangerous; what good could come of this noxious crucible of arrogance and hypocrisy? It would be remiss of Seongwu to ignore his own collusion, but no longer. If those who talked were right and war was coming for Gallifrey, then it would be of their own making ー and Seongwu wanted no part of it.

When he had picked up the gun, he’d had no intention to use it, but now that its weight was in his hand, its barrel pointed at the one who had betrayed his trust, a dark part of him twisted by grief and guilt whispered, _You’ve already killed one person today. What’s one more?_

Of course, death was different for Timelords. It wasn't fatal. Provided you had enough regeneration energy remaining. Each individual typically had enough for 12 renewals.

And the thing was, Seongwu needed a distraction. A delay so that they wouldn't have time to ground his TARDIS and he could escape from this forsaken planet. Escape, and save Minhyun.

"Regeneration?" he asked, finger on the trigger.

"Tenth," she replied, hands still raised.

"Good luck, then."

"You too, Seongwu."

And then he pulled the trigger.

 

 

 

 

 

 _TARA_  
_MUTTER’S SPIRAL_  
_58054 6847:32 from Galactic Zero Centre_

In the treeline of the clearing, out of sight, the TARDIS materialised; the sound of its arrival masked by the howl of the wind and the heartbeat thudding in the ears of he who time would make its victim in the following moments. A concoction of adrenaline and desperation thrummed through Seongwu’s body as he tore open the door, pressing at the seams of his person until he felt like he would burst from the pressure.

As Minhyun was struck to the ground by his robotic adversary, Seongwu too was struck anew by the weight of his dilemma. He had been so sure but now he had to ask:

Who was he doing this for, really?

Not Minhyun. Not really.

No, if Seongwu dared to turn his gaze inward he knew that he would find his motivations resembled less of the man who had resolutely chosen to face his fate, and more like a mirror. Cracked, perhaps. Shattered, even. But the shards of glass still knew whom they ought to reflect.

He could lurch out into the cold, fry the android’s circuits or land a punch, even. He could pull Minhyun out of its clutches and steal him away and maybe it would be okay.

Or maybe it wouldn’t.

Maybe the Universe, in all its expanse would barely notice the life of one human being burning longer and brighter than it was ever supposed to.

Or maybe the Universe, the thread of time so carefully anchored all those millenia ago by Rassilon, would begin to unravel from this point; one that Seongwu had unfixed by sheer force of will, of desperation - of selfishness.

And who would thank him for it?

No one. Certainly not Minhyun.

Maybe the President had been right; Seongwu didn’t know Minhyun, not really. But he knew that his intervention here would be the one thing Minhyun wouldn’t want.

The bitter irony twisted Seongwu’s mouth as he swayed in the doorway. The desire that had so consumed him, had brought him all the way here, would make him no different to those he had come to despise if he were to act upon it. He found the Timelords contemptible for treating other species as their playthings, yet here he was primed to play the game himself. Even the Agency, for all their machinations, abided by one rule, if no other: ‘the story changes, the ending stays the same.’

If there was any hope for Seongwu to escape the shape he had been ruthlessly carved into, from loom to Academy to Agency, then it began here.

It began with choosing to watch Hwang Minhyun die for a second time.

As Seongwu watched the android’s blade pierce Minhyun’s heart, he felt corresponding agony in the full knowledge that the excruciating witness he was to bear would be one that would follow him to the end of his days.

But if Minhyun had to die, he didn’t have to die alone.

Even if Minhyun didn’t remember him.

The electric snap of the android teleporting away was like a starting pistol, launching Seongwu into a run, crossing the distance that lay between him and the man whose life was fleeing him at that very moment.

Red blossomed from Minhyun’s chest until the snow around him was abloom. Seongwu paid it no mind as he knelt amongst it and hovered over Minhyun, itching to take him into his arms but fearful of causing him more pain from the movement. Minhyun’s eyes, formerly fixed on the depths of the grey sky above him, fluttered in their effort to verify the figure he now saw leaning over him.

_"Seongwu."_

As the name left his lips, syllables wrapped in equal parts desperation and relief, Minhyun began to cry.

Seongwu realised with an unspeakable ache that this was the first time he’d heard Minhyun say his name. Did he remember Seongwu after all? Did the remnants of those stolen moments between one heartbeat and the next still linger in Minhyun’s memory against all odds?

No, Seongwu had only ever been referred to as ‘Ong’ in Minhyun’s hearing on Gallifrey and that was not the name that had fallen from his quivering lips. The name belonged, not to the Seongwu who knelt at his side, but to the Seongwu who had had the privilege of knowing Minhyun elsewhere in his timestream. A Seongwu he was yet to become. Those two syllables seemed to rend yet another hole within the Timelord through which heartbreak could spill in. This was a Minhyun who had known him all along and had carried that invisible, oppressive weight with him as Seongwu was the one who led him to his death. Perhaps, in more ways than one.

"Seongwu, _you came back_. You found us, you came back."

He had little idea what Minhyun meant by his words; but Seongwu found solace in the observation that they seemed to comfort him.

"Yes,” he affirmed in a hushed tone, stroking Minhyun’s hair and trying not to let his own tears fall. “I’m here now, everything will be okay.”

“You came back,” Minhyun near sobbed from relief once again and then he was lurching upwards onto his elbows and crashing his icy lips against Seongwu’s like it was the last thing he’d ever do.

It was electrifying. It was agonising. It felt to Seongwu like his soul was being torn in half; simultaneous bliss and torture raging a conflict within his very self. He tasted Minhyun’s blood on his lips but the salt of tears, he did not know if that was from Minhyun or himself.

Drawing back, the two pressed their foreheads together, sharing shuddering breaths. “Look after them,” Minhyun urged, entrusting to Seongwu he knew not what but the Timelord assured him he would do so anyway.

Seongwu was morbidly mesmerised, seeing in Minhyun’s eyes just what had had him so spellbound upon their first meeting. The raw force of emotion that had reared its head every now and then during their time together. Yet now he knew a little better what that warmth had been. Knew better what it was that he was watching fade as Minhyun’s expression and body grew lax, his eyes unfocused.

The forest cared little for one more howl amidst those of the incessant wind.

Lying on his back in the snow at the base of the fir tree closest to where Minhyun had fallen, Seongwu had let himself break down and cry for the first time in a long, long time. It should have been relieving but nothing, not even emotional catharsis, was balm to the wounds he had acquired from involving himself in all of this.

Chilled to the bone, Seongwu had long lost affinity with physical sensation. If he simply stayed there, perhaps he too would catch his death. Perhaps this version of himself would come to die alongside Minhyun and from his very cells would rise a new incarnation with two new hearts, unbroken.

Just as his breathing began to slow, he heard what he had never thought to imagine:

A tearful whimper other than his own.

Opening his eyes, he saw tucked away between the branches above what had not been visible from elsewhere.

A child.

Rising, Seongwu unsteadily sought branches of his own to clamber upon in order to reach the person that Minhyun had died protecting.

Eyes screwed shut and huddled in a cloak, it was nonetheless obvious that this was a face that had barely seen ten summers. Hearing Seongwu’s approach the child tensed and looked down, staring in terror at the man below with piercing eyes that glowed green in the shadow of the foliage.

It was then that Seongwu recalled something he had read of Taran history whilst investigating Minhyun back on Gallifrey.

Unwilling to heed the concerns, demands and, later, threats of the android populace, the human King of Tara had been brought to the precipice of revolution. In the throes of desperation, some would say insanity, he did the unthinkable, the unasked, in the name of a first and final compromise. Seeking the counsel of the last surviving royal engineer, the King commanded that the young Prince Daehwi, heir to the throne, and his loyal android confidante Jinyoung, always close companions, were to be made infinitely closer. One cyborg heir to the Taran throne to unite the halves by which Tara had been split: human and android.

The King had been slain by the mob in his palace and the masses would not accept an abomination on the throne.

The heir had managed to escape the palace but there were no records of how this had been achieved.

But now Seongwu had some idea of just who had helped.

Now, here they were. The Princes, the royal ‘we', huddled in the limbs of a tree, petrified having just witnessed their only saviour murdered just as the King had been.

In the eyes of this child the potential for the future of Tara, its hopes for peace, its chance for unity, glowed emerald amidst the gloom. Outdated feudal system and rigid monarchy broken down to its foundations, it was time for Tara to move on.

Maybe, in time, Seongwu would too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _EARTH_  
_SECTOR 8023 OF THE THIRD QUADRANT_  
_58044 6848:84 from Galactic Zero Centre_

The Universe in all its vastness was still an incredibly small place when one was running from something. There were two places Seongwu had never gone after that day in the forest. One of them was Gallifrey. Maybe Seongwu should have known, _had known_ , from the moment he met Minhyun’s eyes in that forest on Tara, that eventually he would end up here.

The sea breeze stung more than he remembered. Salt tended to do that to an open wound, he supposed.

Several yards away, a modest crowd gathered to hear a street performer serenade the beginning of the spring. Drawing closer, Seongwu was similarly seized, not merely by the words or the voice, but the person to whom they belonged. Brown hair suited him.

 _“But as the last station is also the first,_  
_our destiny is that we'll meet again._  
_When I flip the hourglass, we'll have our new start;_  
_we'll be together then.”_

The impromptu audience considered it a commendable performance. Seongwu considered it a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♡ Constructive criticism is super welcome xo
> 
> *lyrics from Hourglass by W1's The Heal


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